Tag Archives: growing up

Updates and Progress

Paul loves preschool. Loves it. From the first day, he runs in and says “bye” without hesitation. This is how it’s always been. He has never been sad for me to leave him (except for about a month when I started working at the library one day a week. I think he was sad then, though, not because he was with Daddy and not me but because I wasn’t taking him to the library too.). As for preschool, though, it’s just what he needs. He gets little friends to play with him, teachers who love him and encourage him, new toys to enjoy, craft activities and outside time. He still follows me around the house asking me to play games with him. But it’s okay because he knows he has preschool to look forward to the other days.

Preschool Day One

He saw me come in and ran over. “Mommy!”

“Hi honey!”

“I played with play dough!” He jumped up and down.

“How fun! What else did you do?”

“uhhhhhhh…..”

He couldn’t answer. Not a single other thing could he explain. I prompted him and asked the teacher and found he also had a snack and went outside and read a story. Now I know what general things they do so I can ask, but that first day was revealing. His two hours at preschool are unknowns to me because he won’t always be able to tell me what he did.

Preschool Day Two

In the car on the way home, I asked him about his new little friends.

“Is Nick your friend?”

“Yes.”

“Is Gracie your friend?”

“Yes.”

“Who else is your friend at preschool?”

“Jesus! He is my friend. He’s in every prayer.”

Awwwww. Paul goes to a Lutheran preschool and I’m glad to know they’ve already gotten the important bits in.

Imagination

Paul has an overactive imagination. There is nothing wrong with it, that is for sure. He has been enjoying the Richard Scarry books, and I found some “Busytown Mysteries” movies at the library to watch. He loves them and watches them over and over again. So much so that now Goldbug is his special imaginary friend.

“Mommy! Don’t clean that toilet! Goldbug is sitting there. He’s going pee and poop!”

“Mommy, Goldbug is hungry.”

“Goldbug is coming to church today, Mommy.” (“Is he going to sit reverently?” I asked. “Yes.” Later, Paul was squirming. I asked him to show Goldbug how to sit reverently and Paul immediately sat up and sat still.)

“Today is Goldbug’s birthday, Mommy. He’s a big boy! He’s six years old!”

“Goldbug is driving to preschool in his own car, Mommy. It’s right there [pointing out the window].”

“When we get to preschool, Paul and Goldbug need to wash their hands.” [They have to wash hands before they come in the room.]

Progress

On Sunday, Mommy and Daddy got tired of the Paul-goes-Poop-in-Pull-Ups game. I told him it was no longer acceptable to go poop in his pullups “because I was playing” or “because I was watching my movie” or “because I was too busy.” From now on we’re wearing underpants.

Monday and Tuesday were completely dry. Wednesday, two accidents. Thursday, one. We’re doing okay. He just needed that ultimatum, I guess. No more Pull-ups. They are too much like diapers, he doesn’t feel like stopping playing. He doesn’t like scrubbing out the underpants, though, so I think that is motivation… Plus the bribery toy when he finishes his potty chart.

In short, Paul is happy. He’s growing up quickly.

Binkies Anonymous

Hi. I am a Binkie Addict. I’ve been binkie free now for five days and five nights now, and it’s still rather painful. Here’s my story.

Mommy and Daddy brought the binkie addiction to my attention on Sunday night, after I played with my binkie in the middle of a fireside at church and wouldn’t put it away. I resisted the title of “binkie addict” and I cried when Mommy said it was about time I stopped using the binkie. I kept my binkie that night and didn’t let go of it.

In the morning, Mommy told me it was time to stop using because I’m a big boy now and should not continue to cater to this addiction. She gave me the responsibility to throw my two binkies away when I felt I was ready to be a big boy. She said when I did, we’d call Grandma Peggy and tell her that I’m a big boy. I thought about it for a few minutes and decided that yes, I wanted to be a big boy, and I wanted to tell Grandma Peggy I was a big boy. I threw away both of my binkies.

Mommy was really excited. Apparently, it was only 7:30 a.m. and she didn’t think I’d be so eager to be a big boy so early in the morning! She didn’t realize that that is the easiest time to be a big boy. I’m awake and happy, and I certainly don’t feel a binkie craving when I’m happy. I don’t need my binkie when I’m not tired. I watched Mommy take out all the garbage in the house and I stood by the window for a while, hoping that the garbage man would come so I could see his truck. (He didn’t come.) We had to wait another hour or so to call Grandma because it was just too early still. I was excited and couldn’t wait to tell Grandma my big boy news. She was excited for me too.

I had a fun morning playing with toys. But I bumped my head on something about 10:30 and that’s when I realized what being a big boy meant: I asked Mommy if I could have my binkie, and she said there was no more binkie. Wow, that was hard.

At about 1 or 2, I wanted my rest time in my room. But once again, there was no binkie. Oh, the withdrawl was so painful that first day! I cried and cried. I searched in every garbage in the house looking for my binkies. But the garbage cans were all empty. I remembered watching Mommy take out the trash and felt very sad.

In the afternoon, Mommy said we were going on a road trip in the car. (I’ll tell you about our trip later.) We would be driving to a big hotel with a big big bed just for me! I was so excited, and I helped Mommy pack the bags. Daddy started driving the car and it took about 20 minutes to realize that when I asked for my binkie, Mommy wouldn’t give it to me. I screamed for hours, and I would only calm down when Mommy was telling me stories. I can’t tell you how sad it made me to know I would not have my binkie. I think I fell asleep in sheer exhaustion.

Tuesday was a busy, busy day. I didn’t bother to ask for my binkie because I knew Mommy didn’t have it. Besides there was so much to see. There were barns full of cows and roosters and horses and lions, and I liked to make all their noises. I saw old houses with interesting things to look at. I played games. I saw pictures of Joseph Smith and Jesus. I looked around at everything new. It was only when the sun went down that I thought of the binkie again. Mommy and I were walking around the Temple — it was so pretty — and Daddy was taking pictures. Mommy said we’d be going back to the big hotel with the big big bed and we’d get some sleep. I was sleepy! I asked Mommy then, but I knew the answer: “But my binkie?” She said, again, that there was no binkie. I suppose it didn’t matter. I was so sleepy. I fell asleep in the car again.

Wednesday was another busy busy day with lots of new things. It was when were driving home and I could tell the sun was going down that I started asking for my binkie again. I knew it wasn’t coming, but I was so bored and so sleepy, I couldn’t help asking. Mommy did not feed my addiction.

Thursday was a hard night. The day was fine; I never mentioned my binkie because there was no point. But when Mommy put me in bed at 7:30, I could not sleep. I was in my own room and in my own bed, and the binkie is such a part of my routine that it was hard to do without it.  I kept bouncing down to talk to Mommy and Daddy who were watching a movie. I didn’t go to sleep until after 10.

Last night was the same. I cried and cried and cried. I pleaded. I whined. I pulled Mommy’s hand. It was probably 9:30 before I got to sleep. I was just so uncomfortable and sad. I know Mommy’s insistence that there is no more binkie is true, but it doesn’t make the withdrawl any less painful. My question now is: how long will it be before I can go to sleep without feeling so sad, without the craving for the binkie?

I know I am a big boy, but I’m glad I can tell you all the hardships of being a big boy. Habits are hard to break, and this addiction, particularly, has been hard since I’m nearly three years old. Three years is a long time to have a bad habit!

Walking and Talking!

For weeks now, Paul has been letting go of the furniture while standing. Yesterday, once in the morning, three times in the afternoon, he took one step before falling. This morning, he took five steps without falling!

I’m delighted and yet I know this means my life as I know it is ending. My baby is a toddler!

Paul was happy, smiling, giggling, and walking until I got out the camera. Then he was very fussy. An hour later, I got the last two steps out of the three on video. I’ll try for a better video in the coming days!

As for the talking, Paul now says Mommy, Daddy, More, and Milk. Since Mommy, More, and Milk all start with “MMMM,” they all kind of sound the same. But, in context, I can tell a difference!

Paul’s Highlights

In the past two weeks, Paul’s learned a lot. He was a great sport on the plane, barely crying or complaining. He got a little attached to the Binkie and he dislikes the car seat now, but overall, he’s adapted well. His clock is on a perfect schedule, sleeping from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. or from 7 to 7.

  • Within a day of moving in to our new apartment, he learned to crawl up the stairs. It was a scary Mommy moment, since I thought he was safe in the living room with a safety gate up to block the room off. Apparently, the stairs were too interesting, so he wanted to learn.
  • He crawls very fast!
  • He’s almost walking. Sometimes he lets go and stands there, then decides he wants to get something and falls over trying to walk there. It’s like he forgets he can’t walk.
  • He’s saying “Ma-ma,” “Da-da,” and “More.” When he says “More,” it sounds a lot like “Ma” or “Mo-“, but I can tell what he’s saying.
  • He’s very much a little boy now. The babyish-ness is disappearing more every day. That makes me very sad.
  • He doesn’t sit and read books with me anymore. He only wants to crawl.
  • He is very determined when he wants something. He remembers where it went if I hide it.
  • He turned 11 months old this week.

I have a number of pictures from New Zealand and the past months. Now that I have a desk to put my computer on, I may get to post them!

Don’t Talk To Strangers, Starting Next Year?

Ever since Paul was born, I get comments and smiles and questions every time we go out:

  • Oh, he’s so cute!
  • What’s his name?
  • How old is he?
  • What a great smile!
  • How many teeth does he have?
  • etc., etc., etc.

I understand this. I read somewhere that people talk to pregnant women and mothers because everyone in a community is interested the next generation: the next generation influences the current generation. The entire community is therefore interested in what mothers do.

The other week, I realized that now that Paul’s getting older, soon, he’s start remembering that he’s smiling at strangers at the supermarket. When do I tell him to “never talk to strangers”? And where do we draw the line for “stranger”? For example, is the checkout girl a stranger? What if she’s new and we’ve never seen her before? What if there is a weird man in the line behind us? Do we still answer when the checkout girl asks us my son’s name and how old he is?

This may come across as paranoia. I don’t really think anything bad will come of telling the checkout girl my son’s name. But I’m seriously curious: when do we stop talking to strangers? Or, rather, when do we stop encouraging our kids to talk to or smile at strangers?

Mommy and Me

Hey! Guess what! I got my sixth tooth this weekend. It still hurts a lot. But I can bite in to just about everything and it’s lots of fun.

I’m a big boy now. I drink bottles and I try to feed myself my own food. I don’t want Mommy to help me. I like to be my own man.

I can walk around the couch. Then I reach everything that Mommy puts on the table that she doesn’t want me to reach. If something is in the corner of the room, I can crawl and squirm to reach it. Nothing is out of reach anymore! YEAY!

Here’s a picture of me with Mommy last week.

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Mommy says she took this picture herself, so please ignore her messy hair and the weird perspective. But I don’t care if her hair is messy. I love her!

Clever Kid

  • Not only is Paul now pulling himself up on the edge of his crib (he’s standing there waiting for Daddy in the mornings), but he’s also walking along the edge of the couch if there is something he wants to eat (like expensive electronics). Here’s a video of the standing (I couldn’t get him to walk along the couch with the camera going; as the camera is an expensive electronic with a flashing light, he’d rather watch that). It takes about a minute to load.

  • If he’s not too tired (i.e., cranky), Paul will turn the pages of the bedtime story when I tell him too (sometimes he’s extra eager and turns the page too soon).
  • Paul has turned in to a master imitator. I coughed and he coughed (and laughed). I turned off the blender and he started making “whirring” noises. I read him a story with a lion and made a lion noise and he growled too. It’s quite cute.
  • Along with the imitation, Paul has started copying words. I said “Let’s go eat” and he says “Eeech” (Daddy thinks I’m imagining that to be eat, but I think it is!) and I say “Bye Bye” and he says “ba ba.” I say “water” and he says “wa wa” (again, Daddy thinks I’m imagining this).
  • For a few days, I held him in my lap as I emptied the bath water. “Bye Bye water” we said together as I dried him off. The next day and for every bath since then, he goes straight for the drain and pulls the plug. Any suggestions for how to get him off that particular habit? I’m very tired of 2 minute baths, and that’s holding him screaming while I scrub his body before I let him lose to empty the tub.

Paul is almost completely weaned. I decided to start last Tuesday night because his five-tooth biting was bloody and it was not fun. (He did it again Thursday and my decision was reinforced.) I was going to go slowly (i.e., eliminate one feed a day for a week and then eliminate the next feed for a week, etc.; I’m only giving four feeds anyway), but I think my body is ready to wean because as soon as I cut one feed, I was out of supply for two feeds. That makes me think that my supply has been low for a while and Paul’s biting was a way of saying, “I’m still hungry, and there’s nothing else here!” Now I’m giving him one feed a day (one week later!), and it also will soon be gone. Paul also seems ready. He likes the bottle and gets excited when I’m preparing it. He knows he is separate from me now, and I think holding the bottle himself is more fun than special cuddles with Mommy. *Gasp!*

I’m sad that the special baby cuddle moments will be gone, but Paul is obviously eager to be a bigger boy now. Sigh. Nine months has gone so quickly!

Teeth

Paul’s fifth tooth appeared today. Not sure when. I just noticed it when he awoke early from his afternoon nap! That is three that came in the past two to three weeks!

I have more pictures. I’ll try to post them tomorrow.

Playing in the Park

We of course didn’t have a holiday this weekend, but Saturday was a lovely winter day: about 55 degrees and sunny! Daddy was able to get away from his weekend work for an hour midday, so we took a family walk up to the park. Paul went on a swing for the first time!

I also took him down the slide. He wasn’t very impressed. By the walk home, he was tuckered out.

It was a delightful day!

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P.S. Paul is nine months old today!